


The Tailor's Tale

by Beanwhile



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Burberry Au, Crush at First Sight, Edwardian Period, First Crush, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Some Heteronormativity, Tailoring, but just a little on the side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9024975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beanwhile/pseuds/Beanwhile
Summary: When Armitage Hux, the famous tailor, comes back from time spent abroad, Dopheld manages to get an appointment and order a suit. Hux is nothing like what Dopheld expected, and Dopheld is enamoured.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildcursive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcursive/gifts).



> Drafted this when the ad came out but, as per usual, general IRL bothers prevented me from posting earlier. Hope it makes an appropriate Christmas gift?

                At the last moment, Dopheld’s father opted out of their trip, citing last-minute business in town he couldn’t _not_ attend to. Small matter—it could hardly dampen Dopheld’s enthusiasm. On the day of the departure, he kissed his mother goodbye, promised to bring trinkets, and boarded the coach barely keeping up the sober expression of a son supposed to miss his parents already.

                No sooner than the coachman’s call did his face crack into a broad grin he could afford only in privacy. There was no suppressing his excitement. London he didn’t miss too much, having left it only two months ago, but his friends! The shops!

                The man.

                He hadn’t broadcast the information, but Thanisson had arranged an appointment as soon as possible. Armitage Hux, the talk of everybody interested in fashion; the Thanissons’ tailor. After some time abroad he was back in London for a while to bestow his favour on a few clients before departing for the States.

                Dopheld had no idea how Thanisson had managed—his friend had no interest in clothing. His father still dragged him to the tailor as a reminder to remain presentable. For all Dopheld knew Thanisson, the latter would go out in his slippers and undershirt.

                His thoughts trailed back to Hux: he caught himself smoothing his coat as if they were to meet in an instant. As far as he knew, the man was somewhat of a mystery. He chastised all attempts of inquiry into his personal affairs. He didn’t tell anecdotes about his experiences; and didn’t entertain. Work. Fashion. Discipline. That was the long and short of Armitage Hux’s personality.

                Dopheld gripped his cane. _Pull yourself together,_ he scolded himself. He had to act accordingly if he wanted to make a good impression. He wasn’t sure _what_ he was going to do with the approval of a person whom he would never meet again, but boasting was better than disgrace, he reasoned.

                He could almost see himself standing in the centre of the living room while friends and family _ooh_ ’d and _aah_ ’d at his splendid attire. Even Thanisson wouldn’t be able to expose his vanity—Hux’s style was raw and stripped of decoration, save for the occasional stitch to lead the eye into paying compliments to the figure.

                The thought made him shiver in pleasure.

                Because when he took personal requests, Hux did the entire piece by himself, from taking the measurements to putting the bow on the wrapped package. He even had a number of stores, but the clothes he had done himself carried his personal label. The rest, well, they had to satisfy themselves with the store-bought. Dopheld couldn’t quite imagine someone so successful doing manual work. The baffling thought followed him into bed that evening after he had slipped out of his clothes and between the sheets.

                He remembered what Thanisson had told him earlier that day at the station. _I did not acquire my current position by delegating my tasks, ma’am,_ Hux had said at one of his rare visits.

                _The words are spreading through town like a tidal wave,_ Thanisson had remarked, and laughed at his own joke. Funny or not, Dopheld suspected there was a lot of truth to it.

                He turned off the light, pulled up the sheet to cover his shoulder, and surrendered his body to the soft embrace of the bed. His mind fluttered towards Hux’s address like a bird trying to reach its nest.

                Breakfast he all but had to force down the next morning, as his excited state could take very little. Still, he didn’t want to skip and have to die of embarrassment if his stomach complained in front of Hux.

                As the hours passed and his thoughts were saturated by nothing else but his nearing encounter, his fidgeting grew almost out of control. After almost knocking over his drink, he decided in favour of taking a walk to calm his nerves. Then, he had to mind his pace to avoid drenching himself in sweat. Breaks were taken, and there was deliberate dawdling, which he rather disliked, but in the end he was knocking on the door two minutes early. He had even considered the time for the maid to get to the door and take his coat.

                He hoped his impeccable timing pleased Hux. While being shown in the living room, which Hux had turned into his workshop for the duration of his stay, he made sure to pat and smooth his suit one last time.

                His jaw dropped when Hux entered the room and their gazes met. Dopheld had expected… anything? But he hadn’t thought Armitage Hux to be so young, for one thing—they looked a couple of years apart at most. Hux’s face was like a Greek bust's come to life, with his smooth lines and the pale eyes. His red hair burned brighter and more beautiful than any late autumn, and he was tall, almost insanely so when compared to Dopheld’s humble height. He understood what people meant when they talked about Hux as a flame: every subtle change of light made him look different than a moment ago, yet the same. He was like a creature of lore, a shapeshifter who knew the gist of his form, but constantly lost the details. It was surreal. Dopheld forgot to breathe.

                “Please, call me Dopheld… Your servant, sir,” he blurted out in response to Hux’s greeting. It was a miracle he could keep his voice this steady. Hux shook his hand and nodded in acceptance of the fact. There was hardly any need for him to introduce himself.

                He narrowed his eyes while retracting his arm back to his side.

                “What has captivated your attention, Dopheld? The view?” he asked, and turned a little as if to give Dopheld better view of the window behind him. There was little bite in his voice; only the hint that Dopheld was staring.

                “I… sir, if you allow the bold remark, your work is renown, but it is a disservice your countenance is never mentioned.”

                He realized mid-sentence the remark was _too_ bold for someone who had just introduced himself. That didn't stop his mouth from finishing it. A crescendo of shame and alarm rang through his head and set fires under his cheekbones. He might as well gather his coat and leave.

                Hux’s until-then strict expression softened, or at least appeared to do so. His shoulders relaxed and he almost smiled. Almost.

                “You find me handsome, Dopheld?” he asked. His tone was pleased; Dopheld could scarcely believe his ears.

                “I merely state the facts,” he said, hoping the impersonal assessment would help him navigate the uncharted waters his stupid directness had driven him into.

                Hux tilted his head. “I must admit this is my first time hearing facts of such nature.” He turned his back to Dopheld. To the latter’s relief, the tailor headed towards the table that hosted his tools and picked up a measuring tape. “I’ll take it as a compliment, if you don’t mind. Pleasantries exchanged, shall we begin?”

                Dopheld’s suits were all tailored. Having his measurements taken on a semi-regular basis was nothing new to him. Yet here and now he was aware of every touch and every stroke of deft fingers. He was used to languid movement and slow stretches of the tape—Hux instead worked so fast it was almost unbelievable. It made sense to a certain extent, Dopheld reasoned—the man’s time was valuable, not to mention he was skilled beyond human measure. It saddened Dopheld a little: he wanted to enjoy as much time as possible in the presence of Armitage Hux. He could feel electricity crackling over his skin every time Hux brushed a careful finger over his clothes.

                When Hux stepped back and put away the measuring tape Dopheld glanced at the grandfather clock ticking away in one of the corners. The long arrow informed him fifteen minutes had passed. It seemed surreal—Dopheld could swear it hadn’t been more than five. He wished he could stay a bit more, engage Hux in a light chat that could somehow go for hours, but no good topic came to mind. And anyway, he would hate to impose on someone as busy as Hux.

                “Come by in a week to try it on,” Hux told him when he rose from the desk. The setting sun made his hair glow with the sunbeams caught in it.

                Dopheld shook the offered hand. Even Hux’s light callousing on the tips of the fingers was charming: an evidence of his hands-on approach to work.

                “Maybe then you can tell me what compliments you pay to your usual tailor,” Hux added while Dopheld was preparing to leave. Dopheld blinked in confusion.

                Was Hux implying they were going to have enough time to _chat_? Or was he hinting he wouldn’t mind should Dopheld pay him more compliments? The latter was a baffling thought, given that anyone of Hux’s standing would dismiss flattery with a roll of the eyes. Dopheld dared to smile at him.

                “If you think of facts as equal to compliments, sir, then I’m ready to demonstrate the depths of my knowledge,” he said. Hux gave him a pointed look, but his cheekbones had taken in some of the evening’s colour. His lips were almost smiling again.

                “I will see you next week, Dopheld.”

                He tried not to hop and skip while walking to his hotel, and embarrass himself. The thought of a cab was appealing, but he felt so full of energy he took a long walk.

                Once in the privacy of his room, he allowed himself a wild grin. Word had painted Hux as a silent and mysterious man who took interest and pleasure in nothing else but his work. He was a hard guest to entertain due to the brutal simplicity of his tastes. Dopheld’s imagination had taken all the rumours and added old age and a general impression of a dry stick, an old man who lived only for his craft.

                The shock of all these expectations disproved—expectations he hadn’t known he harboured until face to face with Armitage Hux—amazed and delighted him. Hux was so… vibrant; so willing to chat, and no enemy of compliments. Oh, Dopheld could talk about how glorious Hux and his work were until the sun set in the east. He only had to be careful not to appear silly—straight to the facts seemed to be Hux’s preference, and that was easy enough to do.

                Warmth pooled in Dopheld’s chest. He had the strange and uncanny feeling that somehow, he could trust Hux with a secret, or stay physically close to him without it being a problem. The man’s fleeting touches had been like sea wind blowing on Dopheld’s skin. He told himself it was the pleasure of making a purchase, only tenfold the strength due to how special it was. When he turned the light off that night, the feeling lulled him to sleep despite the peak of euphoria that had possessed him earlier.

                The week that followed felt like one of the slowest in his life. London’s charms had grown dull, grown old and unpleasant like the mud of late autumn. He strolled down his favourite streets, visited his favourite pubs, and met with some of his closer friends, promising to dine with them at least once before he left town.

                It didn’t occur to him until the second day that Hux had asked him for neither colour nor material preferences. He wondered if those would be discussed during the next meeting but no, Hux had invited him for a fitting, which meant the suit would be almost done. Evidently, it was going to be something of a surprise, at least for him. _Hux_ seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Dopheld remembered the soft and pleasant feeling the tailor had given him, and it resettled on his chest like a cat. It stayed there as the days went by; he suspected he was somehow nourishing it. Small wonder. He wasn’t sure if it had something to do with Hux himself, or the fact that Armitage Hux was making him a suit; it could be even both. He cherished it all the same.

                And while seeing his friends cheered him in much the same way, there was something different about it.

                They were tipsy and getting on the side of rowdy when the topic came upon Thanisson’s engagement. Dopheld was amazed to hear of it.

                “Really, Thanisson? You, of all people?”

                Thanisson shrugged and took a swig. “What can I say? She’s a remarkable lady.”

                Dopheld was still not convinced. Lots of ladies—and a considerable number of gentlemen—had been granted Thanisson’s approval and admiration.

                “What makes her so special as to settle you down with a ring?” Dopheld asked.

                His friend glanced around as if asking for someone to help him answer the question. When he looked back at Dopheld he was scowling in concentration.

                “You know…” His gaze intensified, as if almost annoyed at Dopheld’s innocence on such matters, or as if his friend was playing dumb to tease him. “You think of her often, your heart beats fast, you get this warm feeling in your chest and want to spend time with her… I don’t know.”

                “You get a warm feeling in your chest,” Dopheld repeated in sheer disbelief. His blood froze in his veins and chilled his flesh. Thanisson rolled his eyes.

                “I’m sure any poet has found a better way of talking about it,” he pointed out.

                The group laughed and someone changed the topic to wedding plans and the particulars of the lady, her family, her dowry, her embroidery. Dopheld tried to chime in and act merry, but his mind had abandoned the company altogether. It had found, instead, its way back to Hux’s atelier.

                His heart fluttered when he recalled the warmth blooming in his chest around Hux. _Could it be the same,_ he asked himself in the solitude of his thoughts, shortly after he had snuggled in the comfortable, if cool bed. He wanted to chastise himself for acting silly and delaying sleep. But the matter of fact was that the pleasure he had derived from Hux’s company was different from the merriment he shared with his friends. It sounded a lot like the feeling Thanisson had for his fiancée.

                He thought about Hux and how he liked to look at him: at the lines that defined his body as existing in the same dimension and very much alive. The thought didn’t take long to crystalize. He craved the intimacy he had perceived between them when Hux had been taking his measurements. The memory of Hux’s hands on him turned into an illusion of him caressing Dopheld’s cheeks or touching his hair. It made him duck his head under the sheet as if it would hide him from the shameful thought. Had he just thought of Armitage Hux like _that_?

                It was a shame and a disgrace. How could he be _so_ perverse? Hux had probably seen through him at the very beginning, seen his odd behaviour and had acted condescendingly the entire time.

                Dopheld rolled on his other side and pressed the pillow into his face with both hands, intent on screaming in it. He had acted so poorly in front of such a refined person! The thought hurt him—not that he might be weird, that could be reined in—but that Hux would think badly of him. He had left home in such high spirits, hoping to make the best of impressions, only to ruin everything.

                The time he had to wait until trying on his suit became a pit of dread in his stomach. Despite the cosy bed, the hair on his arms and legs stood up after the cool wave of fear. He wished Hux would’ve turned him away instead of wasting his time doing business with such a person.

                The need for fresh air won and Dopheld let go of the pillow. The pale blue light of the gaining moon illuminated his curtains from the outside and entered the room threadbare. How fast could things turn to the worse! He tried to calm himself down. Hux had been as direct as everyone said he was. If he were somehow displeased with Dopheld, he would’ve turned him away. He hadn’t, so it was alright.

                More than ever he felt near desperate desire to believe Hux had liked him. Not enamoured or anything as strong, but liked at least. Dopheld prayed the man wasn’t one to act pleasant while secretly disliking his client. That would be the most humiliating scenario of all. He shunned the thought and tried to banish the darker possibilities from his imagination.

                The morning sun and brilliant weather mocked him while he tried to stomach breakfast. Despite the previous night’s logical conclusions, multitudes of dreadful scenarios budded in his mind, ready to unfold in gross detail. A multitude of Huxes frowning, smirking, not being home, disgusted, mocking… Dopheld closed his eyes. Nerves would get him nowhere.

                One more extended walk to Hux’s lodgings had him somewhat calmed, at least until he raised his hand to knock on the door. The damned limb hung in the air and refused to move. For a moment, he considered letting it fall back on his side and walking away, never to return again. But no, that was cowardice. Besides, he would’ve hated himself for cheating Hux out of his hard work and wasting his time and materials for a suit never to be worn. He mustered what little courage he had left, and knocked on the door.

                The maid acted no different. She didn’t smirk at him with knowing eyes, but took his coat and hat as usual and informed him Mr Hux was waiting for him in the atelier.

                Hux did not crow upon seeing him. He smiled his usual almost-smile and got up to shake Dopheld’s hand like the previous time.

                “Dopheld,” he said. “I wish more people had your punctuality.”

                Dopheld, who had been prepared for anything but this, gaped at him. He hastened to recover and shook the offered hand, instantly warmed when he felt the light scratch of calloused fingertips.

                “You flatter me, sir,” he admitted. “This is a big compliment, coming from you.”

                “Truly?”

                “Of course.” Dopheld looked at him with curiosity while Hux was hanging parts of the suit on his forearm to hand over. He didn’t seem mocking or displeased—at best at peace, with an odd gleam to his eye.

                “Your opinion on virtually anything is as valued as… as your beauty is evident. The beauty of your _work_ , I mean. Not that you’re _not_ handsome, just the opposite, but… oh.” Dopheld ended his pitiful stumble of a sentence by hiding his face in his palms. He wondered for a moment if the earth could split open and swallow him to save him from his shame. He had been welcomed by a moment of peace, only to embarrass himself beyond measure.

                “Sir, you must forgive me for this babble. I think my night’s sleep wasn’t as good as I pretend it was,” he apologized.

                Hux raised his eyebrows, and Dopheld observed with surprise how the corners of his lips also tugged upwards, even if they didn’t follow.

                “Wine and weariness speak more truth than manners,” Hux said. “You seem most sincere in your admiration and, on the off-chance you’d like to elaborate, it will be a pleasure if you stayed for tea.”

                Dopheld tripped on his way to the elegant screen on the other side of the room. Did his ears deceive him? _Tea_?

                “I… I don't want to impose,” he stuttered while propping himself on one of the wooden spines. “You are a busy man.”

                “A couple of hours of pleasant company will not ruin me, I assure you,” Hux informed him. There was amusement in his voice, even if he didn’t chuckle.

                “Then the pleasure will be entirely mine,” Dopheld said. He hid behind the screen before Hux could notice the blush taking over on his cheeks. It was a miracle his voice was steady.

                Stay for tea! With Armitage Hux of all people in the world, _stay for tea_! That perfect, impeccable man had looked at his awkward client and against all odds had deemed him good enough to spend his time with. It boggled the mind.

                He almost forgot how to dress in his effort to calm his heart—he was sure even Hux could hear it. The suit itself was perfect; fit perfect at least, and made him feel confident even when he emerged from behind the screen and under the harsh scrutiny of Hux’s pale eyes. He was made to walk around, and all the things a tailor would request, all while Hux stalked close by like wolf after prey.

                “Waist… yes, good… Turn around? I would suggest another shirt, something less saturated, or a plain white would do as well. Is it comfortable?”

                Dopheld beamed at him. “Very much. Do you have any recommendations? You know better than me, after all.”

                “A tighter fit of the vest—and you have to wear a tighter shirt, of course. It would greatly compliment your figure, especially the torso.” Hux put his hands behind his back and scrutinized Dopheld one more time, as if to confirm his theory.

                Dopheld hesitated. He glanced at the mirror to win some time and delay his response. He looked good now: the dark greys of the suit _already_ complimented his figure and complexion, despite the bright blue shirt. On the other hand, he trusted Hux to know about these things.

                “Right then. Never hurts to look as good as possible.” He smiled at Hux, but the latter was already picking pins from his work desk.

                “Heads will turn,” the tailor said once enough of those were out of his mouth and into the suit. It was a miracle he kept his eloquence, as a considerable number still gleamed from between his lips.

                “They will turn after the tailored suit by Armitage Hux’s own hands,” Dopheld specified while taking a couple of pins handed to him.

                Hux glanced up to meet his gaze. “It won’t walk on its own down the street, Dopheld. Some self-confidence, if you please.” He put his hand on Dopheld’s hip to steady himself while standing up. The touch set fire to Dopheld’s bone and flesh around it; he couldn’t suppress a small shiver. If Hux had noticed it, he didn’t comment.

                Once the details were mapped out and Dopheld was back in his clothes (and his cheeks had more or less returned to their usual complexion, thank heavens), Hux called the maid to bring in the tea. They were silent at first, each preoccupied with pouring milk or putting in sugar. The only sounds were the clinking of the spoons against the mugs and the creak of furniture.

                Conversation was hesitant, but Dopheld braved his awkwardness and spoke up as much as he could, even if he was the one to talk most.

                “I’m not a man of many words,” Hux told him after a particularly long pause. “Please do not be discouraged by my silence.”

                Dopheld took him at his word, and tried his best to continue the conversation. The silence intimidated him regardless of Hux’s warning. Hux, on his part, suggested a number of interesting topics. He knew just how to ask the right questions to make Dopheld talk in length. Before long, Dopheld was telling him about his family and his mother’s extensive interest in machinery.

                “An admirable woman,” Hux commented after Dopheld told him the story about how she’d thrown a wrench after a pickpocket.

                “As bold as she is trouble, my father likes to say,” Dopheld agreed. “She was the one to propose, you know? Had no patience for my father’s attempts at courting. He was so dumbfounded he accepted on the spot.”

                Hux laughed. He put away his mug and laced his fingers in his lap. His twinkling gaze locked onto Dopheld with open interest. The light shining in his face made him squint a bit, but he didn’t seem all that bothered. When Dopheld left his mug on the saucer Hux reached for the bell to call the maid.

                “I think you take after her in that respect,” he said as if the pause in the conversation had been no longer than a beat. His voice was somewhat quiet. “It’s a wonder you’re not married with children already.”

                Dopheld’s cheeks grew warm. “Not something to be rushed, I think. Might as well obtain a good suit first.” He returned the smile. “And you, sir? I bet all heads turn when you walk down the street, and not only because of your reputation.”

                Tea with Hux had made him bold as if they’ve been drinking whiskey.

                Hux batted his eyelashes at his lap and had the decency to appear bashful. “I’ve had the odd proposition, I admit. But no one has paid me compliments like you, and I think I prefer them to anything else.”

                Dopheld’s eyes widened. Before he could say anything, the maid entered to gather the china. Hux stood up, signalling the end of their conversation, and Dopheld hurried to get dressed and leave. Hux’s parting shake was firm and pleasant.

                “Wonderful that you stayed. Come in five days, and your suit will be ready for you.”

                Dopheld squeezed a bit harder in his excitement. “Pleasure was entirely mine, sir, you know this.” He smiled at Hux again. “It’s not compliments but the truth when I say you are the most radiant of hosts.”

                It wasn’t until he was halfway to his hotel when he realized he was still grinning. He tried to suppress it, but his smile kept budding on his lips like a thing with its own will. The tea had been the best in his life.

                He could almost feel the embrace of warmth and joy, of being in Hux’s workshop, talking to him and basking in the light of his rare smile, and the twinkle of his eyes; until it occurred to him the next would be their very last meeting. He wouldn’t see Hux after that, ever again.

                The thought wiped away his joy and poured in palpable, painful misery that haunted him for days. By the time he was walking on the familiar route to Hux’s place again it had turned into a sorrow. He wanted to make another detour, postpone their meeting indefinitely. He could live with the thought of one day meeting Hux, but not meeting him for the last time. Alas, his conscience wouldn’t let him be even a minute late to the appointment.

                Before knocking on the door he straightened his back and forced himself to smile and look happy. He didn’t want to sour their last meeting with poor behaviour. On the contrary: he had decided to do everything in his power to make it the most pleasant one. With that in mind, he surrendered his hat and coat to the maid one last time before entering the atelier.

                Hux lifted his gaze from a number of red ribbons and a line appeared between his brows.

                “You seem sorrowful today, Dopheld. Something on your mind?”

                Dopheld looked at him rather taken aback. He had done his best to appear his usual self. Evidently, Hux could read him like an open book with only a glance.

                “It saddens me that I’ll receive my best suit in exchange for saying farewell to you,” he admitted. “Would it not have been great to keep both the suit and your company?”

                Hux approached him with the suit. His expression was serious now, though there was a hint of benevolence in the slight raise of his eyebrows.

                “All things come and go. I trust you’ll retain good memories of our meeting and brief flirtation with friendship?”

                “The very best,” Dopheld hurried to assure him. He tried not to pay attention to Hux’s word choice, ‘flirtation’ in particular. His eyes sought Hux’s for a hint of what he might’ve meant while he was taking the suit.

                Hux offered a solemn nod. “Not all is lost, then.”

                Going behind the screen one last time was a moment of great temptations. For once, he was tempted to take his time changing. The thought was dismissed as soon as it formed in his mind, and he hurried to take off his clothes. He reminded himself Hux would invite him to stay if he wanted his company.

                And once the suit was on, he was tempted to point out petty problems or discomforts in order to extent their acquaintanceship to another meeting; but the truth was, there were none. The suit fit him better than his own skin. The shade of grey and the elegant pattern of the seams complimented his figure like nothing else he owned. Heads would turn after him, as Hux had said, though mostly for the suit. Besides, to complain when there was no cause would be an insult to both Hux and his craft.

                Finally, he was tempted to stay behind the screen and ponder on things while time went by on the other side. He would look at the wallpapers, the floor, the simple design of the screen, the changing colours as the sun set and the moon rose. What would Hux’s hair look like in the moonlight, he wondered while toying with his cufflinks. Would it turn to shades of pale grey and make him look like an elven creature?

                Dopheld shook his head to rid himself of the temptation. He could do none of those things. Hux’s time was precious.

                He hung the jacket on his arm and stepped out and towards Hux. The tailor seemed pleased. He hummed and made Dopheld turn and spin to be evaluated from all angles. When that was done, he put his hand on the small of Dopheld’s back to stop him from moving.

                “I trust you find it improved?” he asked. His pale blue eyes sparkled like diamonds from this close, Dopheld thought. Hux didn’t move his hand, and its gentle weight sent little shivers up Dopheld’s back.

                “It’s perfect,” he said instead. “I expected nothing less from you, but I must give credit where credit’s due. I’m happy with the new fit, even if it’s a bit intimidating.”

                Hux’s hand moved to his side to caress the seams of the vest and trousers. “Would be a shame not to show off your figure. Especially with a suit of my own doing.”

                Dopheld laughed. “I won’t mind if you give all credit to the suit. I think it’s well-deserved.”

                Hux’s hand rested again on the small of his back. The touch made him nervous, though he wasn’t sure exactly why. It wasn’t anticipation, neither agitation of any kind. Yet nervous he was, or at least he couldn’t think of any other way of describing the feeling. Hux’s fingers burned through suit and skin to set fire to his spine. Dopheld tried to suppress his shivers. Part of him had a suspicion those touches were beyond the appropriate physical contact between a tailor and his client. _Most_ of him wanted more, longed for more of Hux’s hands on him, both of them, anywhere on him. He vowed to step away, but only if Hux signalled him to do so.

                The signal never came. Either that, or he had missed it. After all, Hux was a man of subtlety and delicacy.

                “Do you think I can leave with it?” Dopheld asked. He had no idea how much time had passed since either of them had spoken, and wanted to avoid an awkward situation.

                Hux’s eyebrows rose. “You like it that much? I could’ve packaged it for you.” He waved his free hand towards the desk where the ribbons lay forgotten. When he turned back to Dopheld he had to shift his weight, and stepped into the other's intimate space.

                “I’ll gladly take the ribbon and wrapping and pay threefold the price if you ask it of me,” Dopheld laughed. He meant it as a joke, though on the off-chance Hux did he was ready to put his money where his jokes were. He didn’t want to beg for gifts, but he would cherish any of the delicate ribbons on the desk.

                “And perhaps add the price of the suit,” he added with a grin.

                Hux blinked and left his eyes half-lidded. He seemed in no rush to answer, nor take his hand off Dopheld’s lower back. Dopheld felt bad for taking advantage of the situation, but he was desperate for anything to help him remember the amazing time he had spent with Hux. His body felt so light and weak he could’ve hardly moved on his own, anyway.

                “You appear eager to pay,” Hux noted. His voice had dropped an octave.

                “I hope you will allow me the small pleasure of doing it?” Dopheld asked. “Name the price and I will pay it. If I don’t have enough on me now, I’ll see my banker the moment I leave-“

                “Any price?” Hux interrupted him. His hand on the small to Dopheld’s back twitched.

                “Any.”

                Absolute silence settled between them, unperturbed by even the wind that had rattled the windows. They looked into each other’s eyes, Dopheld waiting for the price and Hux examining his face as if it somehow mattered to how much his labour cost.

                “Unless I am mistaken,” he began, “you will not refuse me if I ask for a parting kiss from you?”

                Dopheld’s breath hitched. He tried to speak but nearly choked, forgetting for a moment how to breathe. His lips parted but he could produce no words. Was he dreaming? Hux’s hand on his back was as heavy as lead now, keeping him from running away. He looked around, scared that all of this was a joke. The maid would bang the door open and take a photo of his sorry state at any moment.

                When that didn’t happen, and the maid was nowhere in sight, he mustered the strength to meet Hux's gaze again.

                “Sir,” he almost pleaded, “you’ve taken my measurements and my affection, and now you ask for a kiss of mine?”

                Hux pulled him flush against himself and Dopheld’s arms were caught between their bodies. He had to rest his nervous palms on Hux’s chest. “Three things to seal the deal—is it not fair?” Hux murmured. He was so close Dopheld could feel his hot breath on his face, and the scent of his delicate perfume.

                “And money?” he asked.

                Hux lowered his head. The tips of their noses were almost touching. “Money I have plenty. But not a single kiss of yours.”

                Dopheld raised his head, careful not to smack their noses together. His gaze met Hux’s: the half-lidded eyes were twinkling with intensity Dopheld had not seen before. Why was he delaying what both of them wanted so much? The situation was so surreal he expected to wake up moments before their lips met, and the possibility frightened him. His heart beat faster.

                He closed his eyes and stood on his toes, pressing his lips against Hux’s.

                And Hux pressed back.

                Dopheld thought that would be it—chaste and short, a mere peck on the other’s flesh. But Hux’s lips were warm and firm and… real. They yielded when Dopheld pushed, and in that moment he knew there was no going back, so he opened his mouth and offered all of himself to the tailor.

                Hux tightened his grip and parted his lips to taste more. His heart was drumming under Dopheld’s hand so hard the latter felt he could wrap his fingers around it if he wished to.

                He shifted his weight but Hux’s other hand held the nape of his neck and pulled him in with passion and need Dopheld hadn’t even read of, much less felt the object of. He took the invitation and tried to kiss every part of Hux’s perfect lips, to hold them between his and taste the lingering bitterness of coffee. His hand clutched to steal the hammering heart but his fist closed around cloth instead of flesh.

                Hux groaned. His vigour and desire seemed to grow by the second. Dopheld found himself pressing against Hux while the other kissed the life and soul out of him. Hux made knee-melting little noises of greed and hunger that were music to Dopheld’s ears. He ran the tip of his tongue over Hux’s bottom lip to tickle him, and was rewarded with a hum.

                Dopheld’s hand slid up to touch the beautiful neck and fiery hair. He almost expected to burn himself, but the locks were soft and inviting in their smoothness. He ran his fingers through them and his senses sparked from the divine feeling surely not meant for mortal touch.

                The hand that slid from his lower back to his buttock startled him, and he pulled back in his surprise. A gasp escaped his lips before he could stop it; the kiss fell apart like a dream. He looked down at Hux’s chest in mild shame.

                “No more, sir. I beg of you,” he whispered. The hand had already shot back to his hip; he felt his body relax and sway back into Hux’s arms. “I… hope this was adequate. It was my first.” The last two words barely made it past his lips.

                Hux sucked in a breath. He lowered his head to press their foreheads together. “You should have told me, Dopheld. I would not have insisted.”

                “ _No_.” Dopheld gave a light shake of his head, eager not to break the physical contact. “I wished for it as much.” He put a hand on Hux’s face and pushed him just enough to meet his eyes. “I think I would have kissed you one way or another today.”

                Without any prior agreement or sign, they moved once more and pressed their lips together in a deeper, hungrier, and much shorter kiss which left them breathless afterwards.

                “One for you and one for me,” Dopheld murmured. He was still in Hux’s embrace, and wondered how he was going to detach himself on his own volition. “It is still a fair deal?”

                “I can live with it,” Hux teased him. He let go of Dopheld; they stepped aside to straighten their clothes. Hux took the jacket from Dopheld’s forearm. “Allow me to help with this.”

                Parting was a sombre affair. They shook hands in silence and exchanged smiles; then Dopheld took his hat and coat, and left. In his fist he clutched the vermilion ribbon the tailor had given him as a parting gift.

              *

                Years later, he still pondered on the nature of first times. Since Hux, he had kissed some women and, admittedly, two more men. He kissed his wife: a couple of times before their wedding; one time during; and many, many times after. None of those kisses felt quite as passionate, or quite as memorable as the ones he had shared with Armitage Hux. It made him feel guilty, that a small adventure in his youth would hold such power over him. He tried to compensate this inner turmoil by spoiling the precious darling who had agreed to marry him. He was too shy to ask for feedback, but he thought he did well in every aspect of marital duty.

                Some autumn nights, when she was sleeping with her back pressed against his chest and curled like a cat in his embrace, he wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped that daring hand. More often than not, the thought made him burn with shame and desire. He would bury his face in the fiery hair of his wife, bleached in shades of black and grey by the cool light of the moon.

**Author's Note:**

> The "i saw a man so beautiful i started crying" meme strikes! A very merry Christmas to anyone who celebrates, and happy happy holidays to those who don't <3 (wishes of merriment and happiness not mutually exclusive)


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